Behind These Glasses
by GeneImperfect
Summary: Percy finally gets help for his depression. But when he does, he discovers a secret his parents have kept from him, and there's only one person who can keep him from breaking... Slightly slashy.
1. Cause

'Hello again, and welcome to another absolutely wonderful day in the life of Percy Ignatius Weasley.' The redhead sighed as he gazed at the words he'd just written. He was hunched over his desk, scrawling onto the pages of a book. Its cover was a deep, sensuous violet and the pages had a slightly lavender hue. He had made the purchase at a Muggle bookstore while looking for a birthday present for his father that June. No one knew he had bought it, which was just as well. The last thing he needed was to be harassed about owning a purple diary. He re-read the sarcastic words etched into the smooth paper, remembering reading something once that had identified sarcasm as "the protest of those who are weak". How fitting then. He continued.  
  
'I was woken up at an unheard-of hour by our friendly neighborhood Quidditch captain getting ready for practice. I tossed and turned for a while before falling back to sleep without realizing it. When I finally woke up again I'd missed my alarm and it was twenty minutes before my first class, Charms. I threw on my robes (wrinkled) and didn't have time for breakfast or even a shower before running straight to the classroom. Probably the only good thing that's happened to me all day is that I wasn't tardy. The class was loud and very disruptive, so now I have a five-page essay on advanced cheering charms to write (of course, *cheering* charms) besides the original homework for this weekend. And I finally got back to the dorm to eat a bit and shower and saw in the mirror the state my hair had been in all morning. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. So of course I just got into the shower and acted like I was just fine. Why do I always have to do that? Why does no one ever notice me? If only I'd known what I was doing to myself by never allowing myself to learn how to cry...'  
  
It was true. In the seventeen years he'd been alive, Percy had never once cried. It wasn't that he never needed to; far from it. But being caught crying would've destroyed his cool and collected facade, and he couldn't let that happen. So he simply never allowed himself to cry. Instead he'd developed more unhealthy ways of expressing his pain. Like cutting. He gingerly touched the bandage he'd put around his upper arm after last night's episode. He'd started in third year. He'd done it to relieve the pain of the insults and teasing he recieved. He'd done it because of the pressure he'd always felt to be perfect. He'd done it because, no matter how hard he tried to convince everyone, he wasn't perfect. Or maybe he'd done it to PROVE that he wasn't perfect. Maybe he'd wanted his body to be as wounded and ugly as his cowardly soul. There were many reasons he'd started to cut.  
  
Yes, nearly four years ago he'd started, and by now he knew all the places clothing would cover, and the places it might not. He knew where the scars would fade and where that would not; for example, he knew never again to cut on joints like ankles and shoulders or any other patch of skin that moved around or stretched a lot. This made the scars large and protruding when they healed, and very obvious. Places like his upper arms and his legs, where the skin didn't stretch and were always covered by sleeves or pant legs, these were the places he let his blade wreak its punishment. The scars here came and went very easily, in fact the summer before last he'd been able to wear sleeveless shirts. That was before he'd dug into the pale skin where his shoulder met his ribs and created permanent scarring, though. Now, he always wore pants and at least short sleeves. He'd convinced his parents years before that he was hydrophobic ("no more water than can fill a Muggle bathtub", he'd always said) so he didn't need to worry about swimsuits and the like.  
  
But really, he wanted water. He needed water, needed it to burn saline trails down his flushed and freckled cheeks. Needed it to fall, unchecked, from his eyes and saturate his shirt or his hands or his pillow or Penelope's shoulder. He needed to cry. But his foolishness in years past had destroyed him and left him with no coping strategies except to mutilate his body to the point at which he had to hide it, living in constant fear his habit would be discovered. Now, he cried blood instead of tears.  
  
'Well, it sounds like Oliver's back. I'd best put you away. Love, Percy' 


	2. Effect

Percy slammed the door to the dormitory behind him as he entered. Damn bigot Slytherins. He thought back angrily on his lesson. In History of Magic, they'd discussed famous homosexual wizards including a Viking mage named Vintor the Strong, the Minister of Magic fifty years previously named Byron Toffen (This had excited Percy the most. He really did have a chance at being Minister!), and the inventor of portkeys, Sir Isaac Sommers, to name a few. People had mad rude remarks throughout the entire class, culminating in a suggestion by Marcus Flint that Dumbledore himself was gay. Sure, however satisfying it had been to see Slytherin house lose 40 points, the fact remained that it was for Flint saying, "I bet Dumbledore's a queer, too. Probably has stitches in that wrinkly old arse." Besides being a decidedly bad image, it had left Percy even more frightened of coming out to the Wizarding World. He couldn't take it anymore, he just couldn't. He reached under his bed and pulled out the box, and the towel. Then he climbed into bed and pulled the curtains around him, securing them with a handy spell he'd learned to keep them closed. Then he opened the box to reveal some hydrogen peroxide, some bandages, and some antibiotic cream, all purchased, again, from a Muggle store. It was amazing all the things they'd done without even having magic, he mused. He removed his trousers and folded them, then pulled up the right leg of his navy blue undershorts. He'd never liked the word 'boxers'. Reaching over to the robes he'd just discarded, he felt around until finally pulling out his wand. This was one of his favorite parts of the ceremony. Holding the wooden idol up close to his face, he whispered, "Lacerae."  
  
Immediately the end of his wand began to change shape. It grew slimmer and began to glint sliver, and within seconds it had made the transformation from wand to razor-sharp cutting blade. Percy sighed. It was truly a beautiful thing to watch. But then his concept of beauty had always been a bit abstruse. For example... He gripped the wand and dug it into his leg, sliding it with ease along his pale skin. Aaah, so pretty. At first he just saw the white flesh, newly-exposed by his slice of glory. Then, gradually, the small valley began to fill with blood. The river of red slid gracefully through the canyon of skin, and eventually began to overflow. Droplets began to clump together, and large mounds of red spilled over the top of the self-inflicted wound. He wiped them with his towel before making another cut, this time taking his sweet time. It was always satisfying to go more slowly, feel the burning sting caress his body. Maybe it hurt just a little, but the point was that now, he controlled the pain. Again and again he nurtured his soul and scalded his flesh, or was it the other way around? He was so high on this feeling of both ultimate control and ultimate loss of control he couldn't remember his own name. All he knew was that it all felt so good, so savagely good, he didn't want to stop. But eventually he did. Placing a fresh pad to soak up any extra blood that had escaped his towel, Percy tenderly wrapped his calf with a long strip of linen before securing it with a good knot. He put all his ingredients back into the box and parted the curtains to slide both box and towel back under his bed. 


	3. Penny

Percy strode along the corridor to the library, books in his arms. He could hear two of the male students in his year, both Ravenclaws. They were laughing and joking, and percy couldn't help but suspect they were laughing at him. He had been told before that he carried his books like a girl. "Honestly, what's the difference? How does one go about carrying his books like a man?" he'd thought to himself. Then, just as the two boys turned the corner, one of them snaked his arm out and... swish-CRACK! Both ran away down the hall laughing, leaving Percy in peace to rub his stinging buttocks. That wand must have been made of willow, he mused. He was used to being harassed like this. And if it was this bad already, imagine what it would be like if he somehow managed to come out...  
  
Oh well. No time for that now; he needed to study. But this was not "needed to study" in the stereotypical Percy way. It wasn't "needed to study" in the way everyone assumed he said he needed to study, so that he got straight A+'s. No, this was "need to study" in the "need to get grades up" way. Due to his depression and subsequent apathy about life, the grades which had previously been obsessively maintained were slipping. At first it had been a very convenient thing for him. He could hide so easily behind his "perfect student" facade, declining social invitations that would have been hell for him in his present state by simply asserting that he needed to study for some exam or work on some report. People would notice no difference in his behavior, since he'd always hidden behind his books in one way or another. None of his fellow students had become the slightest bit suspicious.  
  
However, now that his depression had so much affected his abilities to concentrate and pay attention, it was beginning to show in his grades. This meant that even though the other students didn't suspect anything was wrong, some of the professors were beginning to have their doubts. Flitwick had asked him if there was anything going on with his personal life, and McGonnagal had asked if there was anything he needed to talk about. He had answered no on both occasions, but he could tell it was only so long before people would see through his mask and finally realize there was something wrong..... Sigh. He walked into the library.  
  
oh, there was Penny talking to some of her friends. Her friends noticed Percy first, and stared overtly at him until she finally turned around. "Ah, hello, Percy. Excuse me, girls." She left them to continue their gossip, and Percy noticed one of them pat her on the shoulder, another give her the thumbs-up sign, and a third whose mouth undoubtedly formed the words "good luck". But he just stood there, not knowing what to make of it. She walked up to Percy in that gait of hers, the stride which was singularly Penny's. It was upright and perfect in posture, but her hips still had just the right amount of sway to make her radiate both sexy confidence and delicate poise. It was one of the first things Percy had recognized in her once the two had started dating. "Perce," she stood on tiptoe and whispered, her breath blowing warmly into his ear. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" "Sure, Penny. What about?" He still hadn't pieced together the puzzling behavior of her friends. "Oh, about us." She swept a thick auburn lock behind one ear before turning. "Come over here."  
  
She led him over to a very much solitary table in the corner of the library by the Restricted Section. Percy pulled out a chair for his girlfriend before seating himself. As he did so, his upper leg brushed hard against the edge of the table. He winced visibly, and she stared, questioning. He didn't notice. "Percy, I need to talk to you about something." Oh, great. Not her too. How could he explain...? "Alright, Pen, what about?" She glanced nervously to one side, again tucking her hair behind her ear. It was one of her nervous habits, Percy knew. But what could that mean right now? His head hurt; girls were just too hard for him.  
  
"It's- it's about our relationship. I feel that lately... it's been kind of one-sided."  
  
His head cocked to one side. "How do you mean that?"  
  
"Well, you never stay after class and talk to me anymore like you used to. You never ask me out places, and when I suggest us doing something together, you refuse. It's like you never want to spent time with me anymore. I mean, if you don't feel it anymore and want to split up, you only need to say so."  
  
He looked down, tracing invisible patterns in the solid face of the table. "No, no, Penny, it's nothing about you... it has to do with me. I'm just-" Could he say it? Nope. "I'm just really very busy lately, that's all. I hardly have enough time to think, much less-"  
  
"Oh. So you don't have time for me anymore, is that it? You know, Percy, I don't have a lot of time either. But I *make* time. For you." She finished brusquely, her hair now tight behind her ears but still being tucked with a vengeance.  
  
"I'm, that's not what I meant, honey, I just.... Well, to be truthful I've been having a hard time lately, but, well, it's kind of personal."  
  
She made a noise through her nose which could have been easily interpreted as a snort of derision. "'Kind of personal'? Percy, I always told you everything. I even told you when I thought I was pregnant! And you can't tell me whatever this is?"  
  
Percy lifted a finger and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "First, it was absolutely my business if you thought you were pregnant. Second, I'm doing this as a service to you. I don't want to burden you with my problems."  
  
"That's another thing. How long has it been since we last had sex? If it's all the same to you, I would prefer the consummation of our relationship to be followed by a more loving and sharing spirit..."  
  
Percy tuned out the last part of her tirade. He was more preoccupied by the first question. How long had it been? "Over four months," he interrupted.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's been over four months since we last had sex."  
  
Penelope looked ready to scream. She yanked handfuls of hair back behind both ears, and gasped in frustration. "You *never* pay attention to me anymore! I'm sick of this, I deserve better. Percy I. Weasley, I simply cannot put up with it any longer. I'm sorry, but we're through!' She stood up sharply, forcing her chair back with a loud scrape against the marble floor. Then she stomped off, tears threatening to fall down her flushed cheeks. She was not going to be able to talk to her now ex- boyfriend for a while.  
  
Said ex let out an impossibly long sigh before slumping to the table, his fingers catching in his ginger hair as he leaned hard into his hand. "Oh God, what have I done?" He removed his glasses, feeling as usual for the slightest sign of moisture, the smallest indication of hope. No luck. "How I wish I could cry..." 


	4. Oliver

"Perce, are you having trouble sleeping lately?" The young man's grey-blue eyes looked concerned beneath his hair the exact shade of burnt umber.  
  
Said boy yawned nonchalantly in response, as if to dismiss his roommate's suggestion. "A bit. Why, Oliver? Is it obvious? Do I look that bad?"  
  
The handsome boy smiled. "Nah, I just hear you every night tossing and turning. Is there anything I can do to help?"  
  
"Well," the redhead replied thoughtfully, "I don't know anything I haven't already tried. Is there anything you would suggest trying?"  
  
Oliver shrugged. "Well, whenever I have trouble sleeping at home, my mum'd always make me a mug of hot chocolate and rub my back until I fell asleep..."  
  
"I've tried the hot chocolate, as well as hot milk and God-knows-what else to drink, but maybe the massage thing would work. If I just had someone t do it for me. Now that Penny's gone..."  
  
The other boy nodded in understanding, before offering, "Ah... I could rub your back for you, Perce. If you want." He added quickly.  
  
"Frankly, at this point I'm willing to try anything." He rolled over onto his chest. Though he pretended otherwise, he could only imagine the other boy's Quidditch-callused hands rubbing up and down, gently and strongly, smooth and rough. He sat down on Percy's bed.  
  
"Okay, I'm gonna massage your whole back. I can do it very well, just ask my teammates." Oh, Fred and George had mentioned it often enough. But still, Percy was shocked when he felt his shirt being pulled up past his shoulders, tugging urgently to come off over his head...  
  
"NO!" Wood looked at him quizzically. "Heh. I mean, would you mind just... leaving the shirt on? I'm -uh- shy." Shrugging, he nodded before placing his hands over Percy's shoulders and squeezing luxuriously. "Ahhh..." Oliver grinned, pleased by the laudatory reaction to his handiwork. After a few more squeezes, he pushed the shirt up over his friend's shoulders and moved his hands further out on the shoulder. As he squeezed again, something caught his eye. Prominent white streaks covered the boy's upper arms, mingling with the freckles.  
  
"Hey, Perce, what're all these?" Percy jumped, as much as you can say a person laying down can jump. The other boy was tracing the scars, making them tingle with at his touch. He pulled himself up quickly, yanking his shirt back down. "Ah, those."  
  
"Yeah, what are they?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Now Perce, they've got to be some-"  
  
"It's not anything, okay? Thank you for the massage."  
  
It was simply the end of the discussion. Oliver sighed. "Have it your way. You're welcome." He walked back over to his own bed, where he spent another worrisome night listening to the constant movement of his roommate's sheets. 


	5. Decision

'Hi again. Oliver volunteered to give me a massage last week, to help me sleep, you understand. Anyway, he noticed my scars. I keep denying that there is anything to them, but I doubt he believes me.' Percy was untypically chewing on his quill. 'Especially since he found my box and the bloody towel, looking under the bed for some Quidditch magazine. He confronted me about it, but I still didn't give a satisfactory answer. Luckily I don't need to keep a blade or no doubt he'd have put two and two together by now. Not that I'm sure he hasn't yet, mind you.  
  
'I just hope he doesn't say anythig to anyone else. Imagine if the others found out what I do. If the professors found out! If my *parents* found out...' He shuddered involuntarily. But the thought kept popping into his mind that there *was* a way he could be sure to keep his secret to himself forever... or at least until it was all over and nothing else mattered. 'I know I shouldn't' think like this, but I bet if I was gone, nobody would care that I was a prefect. No one would care if I got perfect grades. Nobody would care about any of that, and if they do, well, that's just another reason for me to end it.'  
  
He sputtered. The end of the quill had come off in his mouth. He spat it out. 'This is what it's come to, isn't it? Choking to death on a quill. Should I do myself in before I die in some stupid way and never get my message out? It would disappoint Mum and Dad so much... See, there I go again. Can't I ever think about what I feel first, not what Mum and Dad or anybody else feels? I can't let myself live for other people. And yet, I'm not really sure how else to live... Not really sure how to live at all. Imagine the looks on everyone's faces when they see my marks. It's bad enough imagining them, I don't know how I could possibly live with that... It's all just not worth it anymore. I hope this diary is a good enough suicide note, as it's a better one than anything else I could hope to write. I think this shall be my last entry, so I feel I should still use my usual signature, if only for the irony: Love, Percy'  
  
He tucked his book away in a magically concealed extra drawer in his desk, and was about to lock it before thinking better of it and leaving it out on his desk, easily accessible. He'd really gone downhill since that breakup with Penelope. And Oliver discovering his scars and implements was even more nerve-wracking. Still, the thing he was most worried about at the moment was the grade report that was going to be sent to his parents in three days. It... let's just say it would not be satisfactory. He didn't think he could face them, and what's more, he definitely didn't want to. It was better this way. He had decided, and when Percy Weasley had decided something, well when any Weasley had, he would stand firm till the bitter end. Literally, in this case...  
  
He smiled to himself, with the delicious notion that it would be his last. 


	6. Consequences

When he finally awoke, he could tell even through his blurred vision (his glasses had been removed) that he was no longer in his dormitory. Squinting and feeling around the bedside table for his glasses, his groping hand finally found them and placed them upon the bridge of his freckled nose. He tried to move his other arm but felt a tug at the inner juncture of his elbow. Turning, he saw a magical IV needle attached to a bag of crimson fluid. Being Percy, he knew that of course magic could never produce something like human blood. He sighed wearily and slouched down, still quite a bit tired from anemia. Yes, it was all coming back to him now... The diary entry, uttering his final spell, the wand turning into a knife blade, the incredible peaceful feeling as he turned his hand and admired the blue veins beneath the skin of his wrist before slashing them open. That was one salient memory, the calmness, the serenity he felt as he was performing the act. He'd always imagined he'd be nervous, but instead he was calm and methodical as ever he had been. He remembered physically feeling the pounding of his hollow heart in his wrist, and watching the redness rise and ebb with each heartbeat. He stared in perverse, almost masochistic fascination at the blood flowing from his own body until it all slowly went dark, as though he were falling asleep, and he fainted from lack of blood.  
  
It was only then, as he reached the end of his memories of the event, that he consciously realized it must not have worked. He was obviously still alive and much the worse for wear. Damn, he thought to himself. Then he noticed the five people standing there, surrounding his bed. Madame Pomfrey, Dumbledore, his mother and father, and Oliver, all their faces etched with worry but now looking extremely relieved that Percy had finally come to.  
  
"Oh, Percy!" cried Molly as she threw her arms around him, "Oh, Percy, we were so worri-i-ied!" He stared up at the others, and Arthur looked at his son and nodded. "Indeed, son, we were." Percy looked stymied, then shameful. "Percy," ventured Arthur tentatively, "Could you just explain to us what happened? What pushed you so far? Why didn't you ever say anything?"  
  
Dumbledore stopped him. "Perhaps we should leave the questioning until he is ready. Meanwhile, I think it would be a good idea to explain to him exactly what happened between the time at which he lost consciousness and the present. Do you agree?" All four nodded. "Well, percy, are you ready to hear this?" He nodded. Dumbledore began.  
  
"It seems your friend Oliver here was coming back from his evening Quidditch practice. He entered the Common Room, walked up the stairs, and entered the dormitory as usual. Whereupon he found your body, your wand, and a puddle of blood." Oliver shuddered visibly at this statement, and one could tell he never wanted to remember it as long as he lived. "From the looks of him when he finally got to my study, he'd run the entire way. HE was panting heavily and gasping for air, out of breath from running all that way and crying at the same time. He was very, very worried about you, Percy. You should count yourself lucky to have such a fine young man as your friend." Oliver was blushing profusely at this point, both from modest embarrassment at Dumbledore's description and ashamed to admit the fact that he'd been crying. "He told me what he'd seen as best he could, and I decided on a logical course of action. I called your Head of House, and told Oliver to lead her to your room while I wrote your parents and owl bidding them come at once. Minerva transported you safely here to the Hospital Wing, and she, Oliver, and I explained the circumstances to your parents upon their arrival. At their request we called your siblings out of classes and informed them of what had happened. Finally, we brought your family to see you before dismissing them to their dormitories for the rest of the day. You've been asleep until now, which is to say for nearly two days. Your parents have slept in a comfortable extra wing of my office, and will be staying for a few more days."  
  
Percy was overwhelmed. All that, for him? His father had left work, his brothers and sister had left their classes, and least expected of all... Oliver had cried. Oliver Wood had cried for *him*. Percy had made tears fall down those beautiful cheeks, cheeks which should never know pain or grief. He tried to speak, before realizing for a second time just how exhausted he was. He finally got his wind and said simply, "I'm very sorry."  
  
Arthur opened his mouth as if to speak, but a glance form Dumbledore and he shut it. "I believe it would be a good idea to give Percy some time to rest before asking any more of him." The others nodded, and left slowly without a word. Now only Dumbledore remained. He looked the young man straight in the eye and stated, "There is only one thing more I wish to tell you, and I want you to think about it carefully. Self-injury is not intelligent. It destroys not only ourselves, but also those we hold dear."  
  
"P-Professor..."  
  
"Think on it, Percy. Think on it."  
  
And the seemingly wise beyond even his years wizard departed, leaving the shocked student in silence. 


	7. Written

Percy was sitting up in bed, reading the various get-well cards and owls sent him by family and friend. He couldn't very well say 'friends', he mused.  
  
'Percy, You probably won't take me up on this, but if you ever need to talk, I'm here. Being best friend with Harry Potter means you have to at least be a good listener. [He rolled his eyes. "You get into at least as much trouble as he does."] I hope you get better soon in both mind and body. Your brother, Ron.'  
  
'To our dearest brother Percival, We find it rather ironic that you always thought we were the nutcases but it really turns out you are. We thought about leaving you some free samples of our merchandise, but even we're not that cruel. [Indignant snort.] At the very least, we'll try to successfully send you a lavatory seat. They didn't let us for Harry, but this is a special case. We just want to help you lighten up a bit. Get well soon, we miss our Head Boy big brother already. Much love & many laughs, Fred & George.'  
  
'Percy, I heard about what happened. Are you alright? You must be under a lot of stress (especially if I remember my own school days correctly!), but it's only healthy to express some of that. Oh, and the NEWTs really aren't worth stressing over. They're not difficult, they're just hideously long, kind of like academic endurance testing. Or writer's cramp endurance testing. [This elicited a small chuckle.] I told Mum to send you your favorite stuffed dragon of mine. Remember Sparkle? You always used to hide away in the corner cupboard and cuddle him. [Percy smiled at the memories and squeezed the blue-violet plush dragon that lay beside him.] I'm coming home for the winter hols this year, so be sure to come back to the Burrow, and all in one piece too. ["Oh, like you can talk," he muttered to himself in jest.] Well, the Norwegian Ridgeback's finally started teething. I just wish it wasn't on my arm... Hope to hear from you, Charlie.'  
  
'Dear Percy, Sorry I couldn't come and see you personally, but there's been a big hullabaloo down here with the goblins on strike and all. We need every capable man. I just wanted to say that if you could use some help dealing with or figuring stuff out, just send me an owl and I'd be glad to help. I hope you don't get upset at me suggesting this, it's only meant to help, but if it's got anything to do with sex and the like, which I doubt you'd want to discuss with Mum or Dad (though they obviously know enough about it... did it at least seven times. Ha ha ha. Oh, bad image.) [Damn right it's a bad image, he thought ruefully.] Well, I want you to feel free to talk to me. I may not be able to answer all your questions, but sometimes it's nice just to be able to vent. Owl me if you need to. Love, Bill.'  
  
Percy thought about perhaps taking Bill up on his offer, before realizing just how different he and Bill's sex issues potentially were. Still, he was if nothing else a "cool" person, and Percy was sure he wouldn't be looked at any differently because of his preferences. He made a mental note to owl his brother sometime. Then he moved on to the final letter.  
  
'Perce, How are you? You really had me worried, you know. Even if you never talk to me again, please just promise me one thing. Tell me, give me your word that you'll stop your cutting. As one roommate and, I hope, friend to another, I don't know what to do when you do this. You had me very very scared, Percy Weasley. Ah, I hope you don't think I'm a weirdo or something for sending you an owl like this. I hope you can come back to the dorm soon, it's empty without you. Your friend, Oliver.'  
  
Percy thought it strange that Oliver should send him such a letter. Of course they'd talked and gotten to know each other, but the other boy sounded so worried. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He'd never thought Oliver had really noticed him over his Quidditch magazines. Or was it, he realized, the other way around, with Percy never having noticed him over his textbooks? He decided to get to know his roommate better, as soon as he was allowed back to the dorm. It was getting late. He yawned and rolled over in the hospital bed, squeezing Sparkle and snuggling under the covers. He was going to need his rest. After all, he had an appointment with that psychiatrist from Hogsmeade the next morning. 


	8. Spoken

Percy paced slowly up and down the corridor, thinking how much he needed to talk to a counselor, when a door appeared to his right. He walked up to it, took a deep breath, turned the knob, and entered the Room of Requirement, where it had been decided his counseling sessions would be held. Three of the four chairs in the room were occupied by his parents and a friendly-looking man he'd never before seen, probably the counselor. Dumbledore had informed him that his parents' presence had been requested at the first meeting to give the man --Percy could not remember his name-- a greater understanding of his background and history and help him to conclude what might have led up to that point. He sat down in the empty chair, and the strange man spoke. "Hello, Percy. My name is Mr. Whiddock," ...Whiddock, that was it... "I work at the Hogsmeade branch of St. Mungo's Psychiatric Department, and I'm here to talk to you and help you overcome some of the problems you may be facing in your life right now." "Hello," ventured Percy, still a bit nervous. He'd never much liked talking to people, especially about his feelings and such. Mr. Whiddock continued. "I've invited your parents to come and help answer some questions about your background so I can get to know you better, Percy." Percy just nodded.  
  
"We'll start with some questions about your family life... What's life been like for you at home, Percy?" He wasn't sure how to respond. "I'm not sure I know exactly what you mean," he stated candidly. "Well," pursued Mr. Whiddock, "What is the atmosphere like? Do you have any siblings? What are your relationships with family members like?" "Oh." He wasn't even sure if you could call his dealings with his family "relationships". "I have six siblings; two older brothers, three younger and one sister, also younger." "And what are their names? How old are they?" "Ah, there's Bill, he's 23; Charlie, who's 21; Fred and George --they're twins-- are 15; Ron is 13, and Ginny is 12." "Hmmm." Mr. Whiddock had been taking notes the whole time.. "So, Bill and Charlie --those are the oldest?-- are they out of the house?" "Yes, Bill works for Gringotts as a cursebreaker in Egypt, and Charlie works with dragons in Romania." "Were you very close to them?" "Not really, no. They were both nice to me, always, but they preferred to play with each other, Quidditch and things..." "Do you play Quidditch?" Percy laughed dryly at that. "No, I don't fancy breaking any bones. I'm no good for sports, anyway." Another "Hmmm" followed by, "And your younger siblings?" Percy rolled his eyes. "The twins are... how to put this... not very tolerant of me, I suppose. Ron and Ginny were close like Charlie and Bill. Not much room for me in their social structure, and I didn't see any need to make room." "What do you feel Fred and George didn't tolerate in you?" He thought for a short minute trying to come up with the best words. "My.. well, my bookishness, for one thing. They never cared to learn, not like I did, like I always have. And when I made Prefect 5th year they harassed me endlessly for it. I think what they can't put up with is the simple fact that I enforce the rules, their mortal enemies. They don't see the inherent value in any kind of law and order and prefer to cause mass chaos, which is inevitably my duty to clean up," he uttered grudgingly.  
  
"Do you have any comments, Arthur? Molly? Anything that you think might help me?" Both shook their heads. Mr. Whiddock nodded and scribbled more vigorously on his notepaper. "These questions are for you two. Now, what do each of you do for a living?" "I work in the Misuse of Muggle artifacts Office, and Molly stays at home." "Have you noticed a change in Percy's behavior?" "Well," Molly began, "he was always up in his room reading when he was younger, and when he came home from school during the summer he kept to himself a lot too. He's never been much of a people-person, and we didn't think it mattered. That's just how he was. He never interacted much with anyone else, so there was really no chance for anyone to notice if a change had occurred."  
  
"Ah. So you don't know that much about Percy. What about you? Just his family in general. Is there any history of mental illness in your family?" Arthur frowned. "Well, Aunt Edna, Percy's great-aunt, she... committed suicide. Poisoned herself. The twins have ADHD, and Ron has ADD. It's possible Percy could have ADD too." Yes, they'd mentioned that to him about Ron, but never the twins. He'd have tried not to be so harsh on them if he'd known... and apparently it was possible for Percy himself to have it. That was odd. They'd never said anything... "So besides Edna, are there any other family members that have died in Percy's memory?" "My father George," said Molly, "He died when Percy was less than three months old. Percy was the last grandchild he ever met." Percy knew about this too; there was a picture in a small frame on his mother's bedside table of Grandpa George holding his at the ripe old age of one month. That's who George had been named after. Fred was named after his father's father. Everyone up until Ron and Ginny had been named after some member of the family history. Percy was named after his great-uncle Percival (married, ironically, to Edna) who had gotten very high up in the Ministry, and in whose footsteps Percy wished to follow.  
  
"Hmmm, yes." Mr. Whiddock took more notes. "Now, has either of you been married before?" At last, a safe question. Percy could finally rest easy. Of course neither of them had been married before. They had always been the perfect couple, ever faithful and true. He leaned back in his chair to wait for the inevitable answer in the negative... "Yes." What? Surely he'd been mistaken, he just hadn't heard right. His father hadn't just said... "Which one of you?" asked Mr. Whiddock. Arthur continued, "Me." No. No no no no no. It wasn't true. It just couldn't be. And yet... it must be, and it was. "You are divorced now, is that correct?" "Yes, we divorced three months after marriage, without children. I was only nineteen when we were married, and didn't know what I was doing... It was over a year and a half after the divorce that I met and married his beautiful mother here." Molly blushed and giggled. Percy sat and stared in shock. He realized what he was doing and tried to act relaxed, but inside he was panicking that some sign of his true thoughts would surface. He had to show complete support to his parents if he hoped to get it in return.  
  
He didn't remember much of the rest of the meeting, except that he agreed to come back next week at the same time and place. He got up from the chair and walked out with his parents. As they were about halfway down the hall, Arthur looked at his son and said, "Well, I guess you learned something new today." Percy gulped and smiled, saying "It's okay." Molly added, "We all make mistakes." "Really," Percy insisted, "I don't care. What matters is that you two are happy now. That's all I care about." Molly and Arthur smiled at their son. They were at the dormitory door by now, so Mr. and Mrs. Weasley bid Percy goodbye (with a kiss from his mother that made him blush somewhere into the spectrum of infra-red) and went to their temporary accommodations with Dumbledore. After uttering the password, "Figelus," Percy climbed into the Common Room, and up the stairs to his dormitory. He collapsed onto his bed, put up a silencing charm, and sobbed into his pillow until he fell into an exhausted sleep without dreams. 


	9. Questions

Percy awoke the next morning a bit groggy. It took him a few seconds to remember what had happened yesterday evening, but once he did he only pushed it from his mind again. Stretching listlessly, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and opened his bedcurtain. Oliver had left, as per usual, for early-morning Quidditch practice (which, come to think of it, should be ending about now), leaving Percy alone for his morning routine. He put on his glasses before getting up out of bed, then grabbed a towel and went into the bathroom for a quick shower before getting dressed and heading down to the Gryffindor table to eat breakfast.  
  
He was not used to the noise he heard when he opened to door to the Great Hall, since he had not eaten with the rest of the student body for a good two weeks. As he approached the table, he was pleasantly surprised when Oliver waved at him and beckoned, patting the spot right next to him on the bench. Percy smiled and joined him. "Thanks. What's for breakfast?" Oliver frowned slightly, noticing the upset frown that had been on his friend's lips before he'd spoken and began to act cheerful. "Omlettes and bacon, or sausage if you prefer. What's wrong?" Percy had already picked up his fork and begun to dig in, so he politely waited until he'd finished chewing and swallowed to answer. "What do you mean?" Oliver sighed. "Listen, Perce, you can't hide it from me. And what's more, you don't have to. Now what's bothering you?"  
  
Percy frowned, but it was more of a stubborn pout. Sure, he and Oliver had become much better friends in the past few weeks-- in fact, he'd been the one who'd taken over bringing Percy his homework while he was in the infirmary. He'd told the other boy a lot, about his family and life at home, how stressful his schoolwork could get, even a little bit about the bullying he'd been going through. He hadn't mentioned any names for fear Oliver would go after them; he had quickly assumed the role of the fragile boy's protector, and Percy often wondered if his friend hadn't been doing it from the start. He seemed more comfortable being able to take care of Percy more openly. But this; this was something Oliver, or anyone else for that matter, could no longer protect him from. But the boy's eyes were entreating him, almost on the borderline of ingratiating, and he finally decided that it would probably be helpful, healthy even, for him to tell someone. "All right, fine. I'll tell you. Just... not here, not now. Come up to the dormitory after transfiguration." Realizing that this was probably all he was going to get from the boy for the time being, Oliver returned to his now half-empty plate. "Okay, Perce. After transfig." 


	10. Answers

Percy was feeling highly nervous. As much as he had convinced himself earlier that it would be a good thing to tell, things looked much easier said than done from the other side of transfiguration class. Still, Oliver was waiting for him to speak, so he cleared his throat and forced himself to begin.  
  
"Oliver..."  
  
"Yes, Perce?"  
  
".....I'm not really sure where to start."  
  
"Ah. Well, just try. However you feel comfortable saying it." Oliver waited expectantly for his friend to continue.  
  
"Oliver, remember how I told you I had a counseling session with Mr. Whiddock? Yesterday, when my parents were there?"  
  
Oliver squinted at Percy. "Yeah, I remember that. Did something happen? Did they say something nasty to you?"  
  
"Well..." Percy, with his emotions so high, found himself unable to speak coherently; instead it all poured out of him in confused fragments. "Not to me or about me, no. But... they did say something... something that upset me." Oliver scowled, but refrained from speaking just yet. "They said... Well, Mr. Whiddock asked them about, about my childhood, and what I'd been like growing up. He asked them about the environment when I was growing up. Then he asked..." Percy swallowed and blinked hard, as if to stop invisible tears. It was times like this at which he most regretted never having learned to cry. "He asked them, if either of them, he asked, if they'd ever been married before." The redhead's face was flushed, his voice tight and constricted, and his sentences no longer coherent. "Of course I expected the answer to be no. Why shouldn't I? But then they said, Father that is, told him that yes, one of them had been... previously married." At this point in the narration, Oliver tilted his head, upon which he wore a concerned look. "Then he, Mr.Whiddock, he asked which of them had been... married before, and Father looked at him and said, 'Me.'"  
  
Oliver's arm rested around his friend's shoulders. Even though Percy would probably never admit it, his friend knew how much he admired his father. "Ah, Perce, that's no good." Then, realizing the full implications of the situation, asked, "So do you have other siblings or something? Is your Dad still having an affair? Is there any more to it than that?"  
  
Percy sighed and shook his head. "No, no, they divorced a year and a half before Dad even met Mum, and there are no children from the relationship. When Dad married Mum and they had Bill, it was his first child. We're all Weasleys, the only Weasleys."  
  
"Not to underestimate the situation, Perce, but is that it? I mean, is that the whole story?"  
  
"Pretty much," he replied noncommittally. "I just sat there in the chair, in a state of shock. I was in denial. I guess I still am. But even that doesn't mitigate the hurt." He sighed. "Yes. That really... it really hurt me, Oliver." Feeling the comforting squeeze of his companion's arm around his shoulders, Percy decided to continue. "That's not really all. When the appointment was over, we left the Room of Requirement in silence. They decided to walk me to the Common Room before they left, and on the way, my father turned to me and said, 'Well, I guess you learned something new today.' And then Mum said, 'We all make mistakes.'" He paused to take a deep breath, since his breathing had been getting shorter and shorter as he got upset. "Well, what was I supposed to say? I told them that I didn't care, all that mattered to me was that they were happy now, that was the important thing. I... of course I shouldn't have cared. I should've been happy for them that they did eventually find love and happiness together. I should've been able to accept it and go on, I mean, even Mum did." Percy shook his head. "I feel so guilty. I'm just being selfish. I know I should be happy for both of them and thankful they could put it behind them. But... But I'M NOT ALL RIGHT!"  
  
Oliver rubbed his back. "Of course you're upset. Finding out that your Mum wasn't your Dad's first wife isn't something that's easy to handle. I'd be upset about that, too."  
  
Percy sighed hugely. "No, it's not really that. It's just... they didn't TRUST me! They didn't feel they could tell me. they were probably never going to say anything and let me continue my happy little delusion... I know it was probably to protect me, so that I wouldn't go around thinking and feeling like this. But that just shows that they thought I needed protection. They didn't trust me to be able to handle it, even after how hard I've always worked to prove to them that I'M RESPONSIBLE! I'M TRUSTWORTHY! I CAN HANDLE IT! But I guess the worst part about that was that I realized for myself that I wasn't able to handle it. It broke all my own confidence in myself." He shrugged violently, shaking the other boy's hand off. Oliver pulled away, the look on his face asking if he'd done something wrong. "I'm sorry, Ol. There's just so much about this that hurts. I worked so hard to be able to trust people, I mean really TRUST people, and then some little thing like this comes along and all my work is shattered. I feel used, Oliver, used. My dad..." He managed to force the words out. "My Dad has had sex with someone other than my Mum. I feel... broken."  
  
"Is that it?" Oliver asked. "They don't live up to your moral standards? Is that what all this is about?" He realized he should've rephrased this. Percy looked almost angry. "I'm sorry, Perce, that's not really what I meant..."  
  
"I know." The boy let out a sigh that blew out all the air in his lungs. "No, it's just that..." He was, well, a bit embarrassed at this. No one ever thought of him as someone who thought this way, but he had to let it out. He had to tell someone the thing about all of this that really had him hurting. "it's just that I always thought of my parents as the perfect couple. They loved each other more than I've ever seen anyone love each other. nothing in the world could hurt them. And nothing could hurt me, the product of their love... I guess, Ol, I'm just... I'm SCARED. I'm so confused and scared."  
  
"You mean you kind of thought of it like their love protected you," asked Oliver, "like Harry Potter was protected by his Mum's care, even from the wrath of Voldemort?" He paused, not sure if the moment was right or what Percy would think, but then decided it felt natural and put both his arms around his roommate and hugged him. "You're safe, Perce," he whispered into his red hair, "You're here in Hogwarts with Dumbledore and all the professors, and even Harry himself. Nothing's going to hurt you. And if anyone even tries to..." He wasn't sure how to put this, "They're gonna have to get through me to get to you, and by God I won't let that happen. Nobody's going to harm my Percy."  
  
Percy smiled sadly. "Oh, Ol. I don't think you understand. That's not really it..."  
  
"Well then what is 'really it'? If it's anything I can help you with, I absolutely will."  
  
Percy smiled at the other boy's steadfast friendship. He was glad he had someone like him. And yet... "I'm sorry, Oliver. But I'm afraid this is something even you can't help me with."  
  
Oliver wouldn't take no for an answer. "You said you were scared and confused. What were you scared and confused about?"  
  
He realized he would have to explain himself now. He would have to admit to this side of him, this part that no one knew, this facet of himself of which he was tacitly ashamed. But he could do it. He would not be like his parents. He was only telling Oliver, after all. What didn't Oliver know about him? The only thin he could think of was this. "I always thought they were the perfect couple. So happy together, so in love with one another. That if anyone could truly be in love forever, it was them. I always wished..." He laughed wistfully. "This is silly. But I always hoped that when I fell in love, and found someone who was just right for me, that we would love each other as much as my parents do. I wanted my marriage to be just like theirs, just as loving and full and everlasting. And now I find out about this. If the one relationship I thought was real, the only two people I thought could be forever, really had a past like this... It makes me wonder. Wonder if it's possible."  
  
Oliver was shocked. He'd never known about this side of Percy. Sure, he'd discovered that the boy did have some insecurities, frankly that he was a real person. But he'd never known about this. He'd never imagined Percy, the closet romantic. This was new to him, and he wanted to explore it, if possible, without pushing Percy too much. "Wonder if what's possible?"  
  
The freckled boy's face stretched into a tight, almost ironic smile. "If it's possible... to find true love. If there really is someone for me. If soulmates exist. If... if I'll ever be truly loved." He ran a hand across his eyes. It came away with a smear of moisture. He had cried. Percy Weasley was crying.  
  
"Oh Perce." Oliver couldn't think of anything to say to this confession. His throat was constricted with emotion, as though he was the one crying. "That's... that's just ridiculous. Who wouldn't love your wit, your smile, the gleam in your eye when you realize you've just done something great and are proud of yourself without anyone else having to be proud of you... You're a really wonderful, beautiful person, and I mean that more sincerely than anything I've ever said."  
  
Percy finally looked up, and was smiling through his tears. "Thank you Oliver. That means a lot to me." He broke off, sighing. "Even though you're just saying it."  
  
"No, I'm not." Oliver's intense gazed fixed itself on Percy. "I'm serious," he continued, with the same tone he used during his pep talks before Quidditch games. "You'll surely find someone, someday. You will, I promise you. In fact..." The boy began to blush, but continued as though he was making himself finish. "I happen to know that there's already someone who loves you more than anything else, someone who'd give his life for you..."  
  
Percy chuckled dryly, so quick to turn on his automatic disbelief that he missed the crucial word of Oliver's speech, the word 'he'. "Oh yeah, really? Who, then?"  
  
"M-" Oliver stopped himself lest he give Percy déjà vu by using the same word his father had in that dreaded meeting. "I... I do, Perce." Then before the other boy could stop him he leaned in to capture Percy's lips in a chaste kiss. Then he broke away and looked straight into his partner's eyes. "Listen, I don't know if we'll last forever, and I don't know if we're written in the stars. In fact, I really don't know anything but what I do know is that I'm willing to be with you right now. And I want you to know, you can be sure I'll keep trying, no matter what the consequences. I know I can't make you completely secure, but I can promise you, I won't run away."  
  
Percy smiled and let a few more tears leak from his eyes. Then he leaned in again. 


End file.
